


It's Just Cake

by JediMordsith



Series: Sweet On You [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: AU-ish one shot, Mara can't cook but she can bake, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith
Summary: Shameless fluff in which Han needs to find a new supplier for traditional Alderaanian cakes before the annual commemoration and finds help in an unexpected place.This was sitting on my computer doing nothing, so I figured I might as well post it in case anyone else was in need of some pointless, teeth-rotting fluff.: )





	

“What is this, and why didn't I get an invitation?”

Winter Celchu sat at one end of the Solos' long, elegant dining table, with a data pad, a fine china plate, and a fork in front of her. Han sat at the opposite end, also armed with an elegant plate and fork. Both plates were covered in crumbs, and the length of the table between them was crammed with bakery boxes of every size and color.

C3PO shuffled out of the room through the far door, hands full of still more boxes, muttering darkly about doom.

“This,” Han huffed dejectedly, tossing his fork to the table and ignoring Winter's wince, “is a massive cluster kriff, and you weren't invited because you've never had a proper Alderaanian T'iil seed cake.”

Luke frowned in thought. “Are those the ones Leia's been so upset over?”

“Yeah,” Solo sighed. “There was exactly _one_ place to get the real deal, the lady died a couple standard months ago.”

“We've been endeavoring to find a proper replacement before the commemoration ceremony this year,” Winter explained, gesturing at the table's contents, “but none of them are right.”

“I see.” Luke pulled out a chair, sat down, and helped himself a small cake from the nearest box. “They taste okay to me,” he said around a mouthful of moist, soft crumb.

“ _Okay_ is not good enough,” Han insisted. “They have to be perfect. Otherwise it's just one more big smack in the face about everything that was lost.”

The Jedi considered that while he chewed. “Have you asked Karrde?”

Han's brow furrowed. “No, actually.”

Winter looked between them, confused. “Captain Karrde? The Trader?”

“Master Trader and Information Broker Extraordinaire,” Han corrected, looking hopeful for the first time. “He's got connections all over the galaxy – might know something we don't.”

“He's on planet this week for the Galactic Trade Commission meeting,” Luke provided helpfully, snagging another cake.

“I'll give him a call,” Winter said, decisively, rising. “Excuse me.”

“How are the rest of the plans for the commemoration going?” Luke asked.

“Pretty good,” Han answered, leaning back in his chair. “They're still arguing over the details, of course. Pitching fits about the usual nonsense like whether Madine should be allowed as part of the NR honor delegation.”

The Jedi rolled his eyes. “Again? I thought they established last year that his service to the New Republic outweighed the fact that he was an Imperial once.”

Han shrugged. “Some people can't let go, I guess.” He eyed the table and it's assortment of boxes. “Any chance you want to take most of this with you? Leia won't eat 'em, and if we let the kids have this much sugar they'll never sleep again.”

\- -

Mara walked into Talon Karrde's office in the elegant high-rise not far from the spaceport that he – undercover of numerous shell corporations – owned in its entirety.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” the Trader was saying, his handsome features arranged in a genuinely apologetic expression. “I'll keep an ear to the ground, of course, but I'm afraid that was the extent of what I've been able to find so far.”

On the holo-comm, Winter nodded formally. “We appreciate your assistance, Captain Karrde.”

The call concluded, and Mara moved to drop into a chair across the desk from Talon. “New galactic crisis?”

Karrde shook his head. “Thankfully, no. Captain Solo contacted me for assistance tracking down possible suppliers for traditional Alderaanian T'iil seed cakes. Apparently, he's looking to get some for his wife for the upcoming anniversary of the loss of Alderaan. Their former supplier passed away, and they haven't been able to find a properly made replacement.”

“I'm not surprised,” Mara said. “T'iil seed cakes are notoriously finicky to make if the process isn't just right.”

Talon cocked his head, once again intrigued by the seemingly random things his second-in-command knew. “So I'm told.” He shook his head. “I pulled some strings, and found them a few names they hadn't been aware of, but apparently none of them were adequate. I'd have liked to help. Leia's been a tremendous supporter of the Smuggler's Alliance. It would have been nice to offer her some small comfort in this.”

Mara nodded, but said nothing more on the subject. The meeting turned to other things, and she eventually took her leave.

\- -

The next morning, Karrde stopped by the _Wild Karrde's_ bridge before heading out to the Trade Commission meeting.

“Everything on schedule, Aves?”

“Yes, sir. Everyone's checked in, and there's no issues.”

Karrde looked at his long-time navigator. “Something bothering you?”

“Not really, it's just Mara didn't come back to the ship last night.”

Talon smiled. “She's a grown woman, Aves, and not an unattractive one. We can't expect her to spend all her nights with boring old men like us, I suppose.”

Aves was about to reply, but snapped his mouth shut when Mara strode in. She was clean and pressed as always, and carried a modestly sized box in Alderaanian blue, which she thrust at Talon.

“Give those to Winter.”

Karrde looked surprised. “You found another supplier?”

“Yes.” Her tone made it clear that she had no intention of saying anything further, so he accepted the box gracefully.

“Thank you. I'll head out a little early then.”

\- -

Han was showing Anakin how to fix the wiring on one of this toys when C3PO hurried into the room.

“Oh dear, oh dear! Captain Solo, do come at once!”

“What is it, Goldenrod?” He asked, barely looking up. The gold-plated droid panicked over nearly everything, so he never bothered to get concerned about it's hysterics any more.

“Madam Celchu is on the comm, Sir, and I believe she's been weeping!”

That brought Han's head up. “Stay here,” he told his son. Ducking into the other room, he dropped in front of the comm. “Winter? What's wrong?”

Winter had indeed been crying, and she brushed at her cheeks with one hand. “We have it!” She lifted her other hand into comm range, displaying a flawless little cake. “The perfect T'iil seed cake!”

Han's heart leapt. “Really? Where? How?”

She shook her head, elegant white coiffure shaking slightly. “I don't know. There's no indication of the source on the box. Captain Karrde dropped it off this morning.”

“Right,” he said, taking charge. “I'll be be right over.” Han grabbed his jacket, called the 3PO and the Noghri to watch the kids, and took off.

The turbo-lift doors opened, and Luke stepped toward the hall, only to be pushed back inside by his brother-in-law. The doors whisked shut again and Han punched a button.

“Good timing, Kid,” he grinned.

“Why? Where are we going?” Luke was pleased, if puzzled, to see the happiness bubbling off the former smuggler.

“To corner Karrde,” Solo announced. “He came through on the T'iil seed cakes after all.”

“That's great!”

Fortuitously, they hit the building near the end of one of the Trade Commission's routine breaks. Luke honed in on Karrde's unique and familiar presence in the Force, and led the way, deftly navigating the mass of meeting participants with Han close on his heels. Then they waited (Luke with his usual outwardly impenetrable Jedi calm, Han with barely concealed impatience) for him to conclude his discussion with Mazzic.

“Captain Solo, Master Skywalker,” Talon greeted them with a polite smile when he turned. “What brings you down here?

“The cakes,” Han cut directly to the chase. “They're perfect, and we need to know where they came from so we can put in an order for the commemoration ceremony.”

Karrde looked pleased. “Excellent,” he said. Pulling his comm link from his belt, he keyed in Mara's personal code.

“Jade,” she answered crisply.

“Mara, the cakes you found were perfect,” Karrde told her. “Captain Solo needs the name of the supplier so he can place an order for the official commemoration ceremony.”

To all three of the men's surprise, there was complete silence on the other end of the line.

“That's not going to be possible,” Mara said after a moment, her voice carefully even.

“What?” Han all but shouted. “Look, sister,” he began.

“I have to go,” Mara cut him off. “Talon, we can discuss this later.”

She abruptly hung up.

Karrde looked at his comm link, startled. “I apologize,” he said, his impeccable manners coming to the fore. “Perhaps I could get to the bottom of this this evening when I see Mara again and contact you tomorrow morning?”

“You don't know where she got them?” Luke asked, cocking his head curiously.

Talon shook his head. “I had other people working on this project. Mara only found out because she walked in on the end of my comm with Winter. She showed up with the cakes this morning, but didn't say a word about her sources.”

“All right, but you tell her to fess up or I'll have him,” Han jerked a thumb at Luke, “pull a Jedi mind trick if he has to. Leia _needs_ those cakes.”

Neither Luke nor Karrde bothered to point out that the Jedi didn't forcibly read other people's minds, or that even if he wanted to, Mara's would be the last one in the galaxy he'd have a shot at getting into - provided she didn't simply kill him on the spot for trying.

Karrde simply nodded courteously. “Of course.” A chime sounded, calling participants back into session and he excused himself.

“Come on,” Han said. “Let's go up to Leia's office and check out the goods.”

It didn't take them long to make their way through the building's levels, but halfway there, Luke said, “Uh oh.”

“What?”

“I think Leia beat us to it.”

“A Force thing?”

The Jedi nodded, at a loss for how to explain the conflicting and powerful emotions rolling off his sister.

“Great,” Han said. “Now we have to get them. She'll be twice as devastated if she knew we found some and then didn't deliver.”

Leia's office was locked, and Han used his private code to get them in. The sight that greeted them made Luke's heart want to simultaneously swell and break.

Leia and Winter, two of the most refined, regal women he'd ever met, were huddled together on the floor in the corner over the bakery box, wiping their eyes with cloth napkins and nibbling on the cakes. They looked for all the worlds like two little girls having a tea party.

“Hey, Princess,” Han walked over and squatted down next to his wife.

“Oh, Han!” Leia threw her arms around his neck in a quick, fierce hug. “They taste like home!”

Han rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to her head. “Good.”

“Did you find out where they're from?” Winter asked, her eyes shining with hope.

“We're working on it,” Luke assured her. “Karrde got them from Mara, and he'll ask her for her source tonight when they aren't both buried in the Trade meeting.”

_Please, Mara. Please make this happen._

\- -

Karrde eyed his fuming second-in-command over his cigarra, curiously.

“You didn't tell me they were for a party!” She griped, pacing. “I thought they were just for Leia. Kreth!”

Talon reflected briefly on how far they'd all come in the last few years that _Counselor_ _Organa-Solo_ had become _Leia_ , and friend enough that Mara would pull private strings for her without expecting compensation.

“I'm not sure I understand the problem. You had to get them from somewhere. Even if it wasn't a formally established supplier, surely they'll be open to negotiating some kind of arrangement,” he pointed out reasonably. “It's not as if Organa won't pay or provide anything they ask to make it happen.”

“It's not that simple,” Mara bit out. “It was a personal favor, and there are… problems, with trying to do it for other people.”

Karrde frowned. “Mara, this is important.”

“You think I don't know that?”

Talon smoked in silence for a moment. “Exactly what kind of problems are we talking about?”

Mara slumped into a chair. She trusted Talon, more than almost anyone else alive, and she felt vaguely guilty for inadvertently getting him in a bit of a mess.

“Look,” she said finally, sounding tired. “I did get them off the books. The supplier has no license or documented training. More to the point, I got them from a former Imperial.” She looked up at her boss. “Specifically, the kind that key members of the Alderaanian expat population loves to hate.”

Karrde's heart sank, as he realized what she was getting at. She saw it click and nodded.

“Leia has worked with people like Madine long enough to be forgiving of a lot of ex-Imp sins. I knew she'd be okay with getting something precious, even if it came from less than spotless hands.”

Talon sighed. “But if the rest of the community tries them, they'll want them too.”

Mara folded her arms across her chest with a scowl. “She'll either have to keep her source a secret, which is political suicide, or she'll have to tell them and deal with the howling, wounded masses screaming that she practically poisoned them with defiled versions of a sacred repast.” She glared at the wall, frustrated. “If I'd known they wanted them for a party, I would never have given them to you to deliver.”

Karrde turned that wording over in his mind. “You'd have had them anonymously delivered by droid?”

She glanced at him, and her lips quirked. “Maybe. Or I'd have snuck onto the _Falcon_ and left them there, just for the fun of irritating Solo.”

They mulled over the situation for a few moments.

“There are generous resources available for this project,” Karrde said finally. “Perhaps we can find a work-around.”

“You mean a cover-up,” Mara corrected.

He shrugged an elegant shoulder. “It would only have to be this once. Then we can simply claim that the supplier died, just as their last one did. At least we'll have bought them a year to work out other options.”

“Force,” Mara sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Would your supplier be willing to meet with Organa-Solo directly?” Karrde asked.

“No,” Mara said immediately.

That was decidedly inconvenient, but Karrde understood. He'd seen how cruel the Alderaanian population was to Mara, even though she'd had nothing to do with the planet's destruction. Had, in fact, been completely set against the Death Star, personally, from the beginning.

“All right,” he said at last. “I'll talk to Solo.”

\- -

Han stood by the window of his wife's office and scowled. Leia, sitting behind her desk, struggled to keep her best diplomatic composure.

“They were made by an Imperial?” Winter repeated.

“An ex-Imperial,” Karrde countered, gently. “One that Mara is certain will be unacceptable to the larger Alderaanian community. Especially at an event of such a grave and reverent nature.”

“I see,” she said, faintly, her brow furrowing.

“If she'd known the full details of the project,” Karrde apologized, “She would never have supplied them in the first place.”

“Don't apologize for that,” Leia said swiftly. “They're perfect. If other people prefer to miss out on them because they refuse to forgive, that's their choice. _I_ am much happier having  the opportunity to share my heritage with my children – even if I have to bend some ideals to make it happen. We just need to figure out how to bridge the gap.” 

“There isn't a lot of time left,” Han pointed out, darkly. “We've been working on this for weeks. Asking him was a last ditch effort.” He shot a glance at Karrde. “No offense.”

Talon waved it off. “Of course not.”

\- -

Luke tracked Mara down and found her sitting in front of a fountain, staring blankly at the water. He knew she felt him approach, and sat down on the bench next to her.

“It still amazes me sometimes to see water used for decoration.”

“Don't bother with small talk, Skywalker. You're still terrible at it,” she told him, but there was no venom in her voice. “You're here about the cakes.”

He looked sideways at her. “Actually, I'm just here to thank you.”

Her face crinkled into a puzzled look. “Thank me? For dropping your sister into a political quandary?”

He shook his head. “I know you wouldn't have if you'd  known. ” His hand snuck out and caught one of hers, squeezing it. “But you pulled in personal favors, just to make Leia happy. And she  _was_ happy, Mara. It means a lot to her, and that means a lot to me.”

Mara sighed. “You're such a sap.”

He grinned. “And you're not as cold as you like to pretend. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”

“Good,” she retorted. “I'd hate to have my icy reputation damaged.”

“Speaking of cakes, though, when's the last time you ate?” Luke asked.

“I had a ration bar a few hours ago.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Real food, Mara.” She opened her mouth and he cut her off. “Ration bars are  _not_ real food.”

It was a familiar argument and Mara quashed a smile. “Two days ago, then, I think.” At his look, she glowered, defensively. “I've been busy!”

“Let's go,” Luke pulled on the hand he still held. “I'll make you dinner.”

“It's not that horrible root-leaf poodoo Yoda used to make you eat, is it?” she teased.

He pulled a face. “If I never have that stew again, it will be too soon,” he assured her. “I'm not a bad cook, you know. I just don't get to cook for you because we're usually too busy saving the galaxy or on opposite sides of the system.”

An idea occurred, and Mara immediately smothered it, horrified with herself.

Luke stopped, turned around to face her. “What?”

Mara shook her head. “Nothing. Let's go.”

Dinner was good, as was the bottle of wine they opened to go with it. Luke was a surprisingly capable cook, and the idea nagging at the back of Mara's mind got insistently louder. The wine probably didn't help with that, she thought, annoyed.

Finally, Luke set his glass down. “Out with it, Jade. Something's been bugging you all night.”

Mara winced and set her own glass down. Standing, she walked away to stare out the window. “I had an idea,” she admitted. “But it's either going to be perfect or make everything a hundred times worse.”

“All right,” Luke replied easily. “How about letting me be a second opinion on the odds?”

This was stupid, and part of her was screaming and stamping it's feet in protest that she was even considering it. But Luke's gaze was warm and encouraging on her back, and the hug Leia had given her earlier in the day in fervent thanks for the cakes, despite the accompanying mess, hadn't quite left her. She took a deep breath, told herself to quit being a coward, and bit the blaster bolt.

“You could do it. Bake the cakes, I mean. You and Solo and Leia's kids. They,” and by this he understood clearly that she meant the Alderaanian community, “couldn't possibly ask for anyone more NR than that.” 

Luke cocked his head. “We couldn't do it by ourselves,” he said slowly, feeling out the idea. “We'd need your contact to show us how.”

She nodded. “But you wouldn't have to tell anyone who they were,” she insisted. “You could use a kitchen in one of Karrde's apartments. Neutral ground.”

“Leia would be beyond delighted for Han and the kids to learn how to make proper cakes,” Luke agreed. “But I'm not sure we could learn fast enough to have them properly made in time for the commemoration.” He smiled ruefully. “Especially with the kids helping.”

Mara half turned, considering him. “But if I promised you could?”

“You have that much faith in your supplier?” he asked, surprised.

She hesitated, then nodded firmly. “Yes.”

He gave her a brilliant smile that made her stomach turn over. “I say those are odds worth taking.”

\- -

Two afternoons later, Luke, the Solos and Winter - who had all but begged to be allowed to come - appeared at the front office of the small apartment block Karrde kept for his people on Coruscant. To their surprise, they were met by Karrde himself.

He ushered them inside and made a show of asking the kids if they were sure they hadn't been bugged, followed, or otherwise spied on. Each assured him seriously that they hadn't.

“Miss Mara would _kill_ us,” Jaina insisted.

“That is a possibility,” Karrde agreed seriously before taking them to a turbo-lift.

Luke noted, as he saw Han did as well, that everything required key-code access. Discrete as security was, this facility was tightly regulated. No wonder Mara had felt comfortable using it as neutral ground to meet her contact.

At the third level from the top, the turbo-lift stopped and opened into a small lobby. Luke could feel Mara's bright presence inside but, curiously, didn't feel anyone else with her. Karrde punched in yet another code and the door slid open. Beautiful not-quite-classical music hummed through the apartment. The kids tumbled inside, already excited by the rich smell of yeast and warm sugar in the air. The adults followed, only a fraction less eager.

The kids followed the delicious smells to the compact but well-appointed kitchen that opened into a dining room, and came to an abrupt stop, gaping.

“Miss Mara?” Jacen asked, astonished.

Luke, though he didn't know it, was no less amusing a sight than his nephew as he stared slack-jawed at his friend.

Mara wore her standard black cargo pants and a sleeveless green tunic, and her hair had been pulled up on top of her head in a messy knot. She had flour up to her elbows, and a streak of sugar along her cheek. She was the most enchanting thing he'd ever seen.

“It's about time you got here,” she answered, pointing to the sink. “Wash your hands and grab an apron.” Snatching a data pad off the counter, she thrust it at Leia. “The plan is on there. Make sure everyone gets to their assigned stations, will you? I'll be over in a minute to explain their jobs.” She caught Winter's eye and cocked a head toward a cabinet. “There's wine and glasses in there if you want to do some pouring.”

Then she whirled around and started hitting buttons on the cooking unit.

Behind him, Luke could feel Karrde radiating amusement and affection.

“Wait,” Solo said, even as Leia and Winter sprang into action herding the kids. “Where's the supplier?”

Mara ignored him, shoving her hands into a deep bowl and scowling determinedly at something. “Hands. Washing. Now.”

Unable to contain himself, Luke walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, crushing her back against him in a hug.  _You are amazing, Mara Jade._

Mara couldn't quite hide the warmth that spread through her down to her core at his words, or her embarrassment. “Of course I am.” she tried to snark at him, but failed miserably. “Now seriously, go get an apron. We've got a lot to do, and it's going to get messy.”

Mara managed the baking like a combination Jedi training exercise and military operation, patiently instructing Luke and the Solos on the proper process while keeping a strict eye on the actual baking. Leia and Winter were assigned the job of folding and lining bakery boxes, and keeping all the adults' glasses filled with wine. Where she'd managed to procure the fruity, non-alcoholic green wine for the kids, Luke had no idea, but their delight was undisguised despite their attempts to act grown up about the entire adventure. Even Karrde pitched in, ferrying trays of cakes between kitchen and packing station. When no one else was looking, Luke caught him leaning over Anakin, helping correct his grip on the sifter the boy was using, whispering a humorous reminder about not letting Mara catch them holding it wrong.

As dawn approached, the dining room was lined with stacks of neat blue boxes, each lovingly and precisely packed with a dozen perfect traditional T'iil seed cakes. All three Solo children were sacked out on the couches in the common room, sound asleep, their faces streaked with sugar and still wearing faint smiles. Winter was sleeping quietly in an overstuffed chair across from them. Leia was curled up in the crook of Han's arm, drowsily watching the sun rise through the large window, wrapped in the smells and tastes of her heritage, her present and future spread before her with fresh promise.

In the kitchen, Luke tugged the cleaning rag from Mara's hand. “It can wait, Jade,” he coaxed. “You haven't stopped moving in sixteen hours.

“It's sugar,” she protested, trying to pluck the cloth back. “It'll harden if it sits.”

“The droids will take care of it,” he insisted, firmly, tossing it out of her reach.

Mara sighed, but moved to wash her hands. “Fine. If Karrde sends me a cleaning bill, I'm forwarding it to you.”

Luke smiled. “I'll add it to my tab. I already owe you more than I can repay, anyway.”

Mara snorted. “Hardly. I think you're the only one who actually paid attention to my instructions on proper process.”

Luke wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank you, Mara.”

She sighed, and let herself lean against him. “It's just cake, Skywalker.”

“If you say so.”

 


End file.
